


why don't you teach your heart to talk

by dragonharps (StarlightNyx)



Category: Young Avengers
Genre: Alternate Universe - No Powers, Crush at First Sight, F/F, babysitter!america, kid!loki
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-05-27
Updated: 2015-05-27
Packaged: 2018-04-01 14:05:18
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 867
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4022653
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/StarlightNyx/pseuds/dragonharps
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>
  <i>“You have pretty hair,” he adds, but his eyes are focused on the macaroni box. Of course.</i>
</p><p>
  <i>“Thank you,” Kate says, narrowing her eyes at him. “I'm Kate. I guess.”</i>
</p><p>A de-powered AU where America is Loki's babysitter and Kate is Kate.</p>
            </blockquote>





	why don't you teach your heart to talk

**Author's Note:**

> title from love love - take that, aka the end credits song from xmfc because i am weak.
> 
> this is really short but??? i wanted to write something amerikate and i saw this [au](http://awful-aus.tumblr.com/post/115132282631/awful-au-118) post on tumblr and whoop, here i am.

“What are you getting?” croons that annoying as fuck kid's voice from behind Kate as she reaches up to grab a box of macaroni. Hey, she's a struggling college kid and it's _on sale_. “Can I have some?”

“I don't even know you,” Kate complains. The kid, black hair spiked up and green eyes gleaming with a mischievous light, has been following her around practically since she walked into the store. “Today is the first time I've seen you. I don't know your _name_.”

“Loki,” the kid says cheerfully. He bounces on his tiptoes, tennis shoes the same green and black as his crown-patterned T-shirt and shorts. “You have pretty hair,” he adds, but his eyes are focused on the macaroni box. Of course.

“Thank you,” Kate says, narrowing her eyes at him. “I'm Kate. I guess.”

Loki peers up at her with wide, too innocent green eyes, gaze flickering back to the macaroni for a second before he decides, apparently, to keep his eyes focused on her. “You guess?” he says in a tone that's way too sarcastic for, what, a seven-year-old?

Where is his mother? Kate wonders, then blanches. Does he _have_ a mother? She sure doesn't, hers up and left to god knows where. Who knows if her mom's even alive, now. Probably accidentally walked into traffic.

“Who are you here with?” Kate asks, trying to keep her tone light and happy even though she's resisting either hitting him or calling child services. Maybe both. The black eye can go unexplained, she guesses. “It's really not safe to go wandering around by yourself—”

“Loki,” says a sharp voice from behind Kate, and she thinks _oh shit oh shit_ —before she realizes the probable anger in the voice's tone is probably directed at the kid. Well. “What have I said about going off on your own?”

Kate whirls around and swears to god her sunglasses almost fall off her face in shock. An absolutely gorgeous woman, probably a year or so older than she is, stands there, dark skin a sharp contrast to Loki's pale skin. Oh, they're probably not blood-related, then. Her dark curls, falling past her shoulders, give Kate a brief flash of envy before she fantasizes what it would feel like to tug her fingers through them.

Okay, Kate, she tells herself, stop being creepy.

She manages to school her expression into something that isn't a dropped jaw with a swipe of drool trailing from her mouth and wide eyes. Kate hasn't been on a date since the popular boy in high school who hung out behind the building and smoked weed asked her out on a date that was very awkward and uncomfortable. She thinks it's Billy and Teddy and their gross newlywed bliss getting to her.

“Loki,” the woman repeats, holding out a hand, and her patriotic-colored jacket sleeve slides up to reveal a star tattoo on her wrist. Kate is falling deeper by the second.

Dear god, she needs to get laid. Preferably with this beautiful woman.

“Did he bother you?” the woman asks in her smooth, deep voice and Kate swallows a few times before she realizes she's talking to _her_. Oh god, she thinks she's blushing. The woman sighs. “What am I saying, he bothers everyone. Loki, I swear to god.”

“You're not his mom, are you?” Kate asks as Loki practically _pouts_ and starts to stomp over to the woman. She arches a fine-shaped eyebrow at him, though, and he drags his feet instead.

“Good god, no,” the woman says, sounding amused. She regards Loki with a sharp glare. “I babysit for him. His… cousin, or adopted brother, or whatever he is now, and I were friends when we were kids. America,” she adds, offering a hand, and Kate almost snorts at the irony.

“Kate,” she manages to say, taking the hand. America's skin is rough, like sandpaper, and simultaneously soft. Kate should really not be so attracted to that. “He hasn't been bothering me.”

That's a lie, and from the skeptical look in America's eyes, she knows it, but whatever. “Okay. Loki, what—let go of her,” America says slowly, eyes narrowing, as Loki's spindly fingers curl around Kate's calf.

“Kid,” Kate says with a dignified sniff. She's about to kneel and pry Loki's bony hand off of her—the prepubescent jerk-off is starting to get on her nerves—but America levels a glare so harsh Kate would probably run screaming if she were younger.

And not enthralled with America's face despite having just met her, like, five minutes ago. Shit.

Loki slinks over to America's side again, huffing. Kate hears him mutter something including the words “meanie Miss America” under his breath, and hides her snicker behind her macaroni box.

America huffs. “Sorry.”

“It's fine,” Kate says. She's sure if America weren't so fucking pretty, she'd make a passive-aggressive comment about watching the kid. But, well.

“After I'm done watching him...” America hesitates, and Kate gapes for a few seconds before she manages to close her mouth. “Want to get coffee?”

Kate grins. “Yes please.”

“Can I have that?” Loki asks again, pointing to the macaroni, and Kate seriously wants to smack him again.

**Author's Note:**

> tumblr is romaniwandamaximoff.


End file.
